[Trade] Foul Fiend

If there was one thing White-Fang knew, it was that the cold made his bones ache and he preferred to stay sheltered during the winter months. He only truly left the labs for meals and to stretch his legs. He didn’t get around much, rarely met new beings and hardly ever wandered far from home. When it came time for his stomach to rumble loud enough, White-Fang rose to his feet and stretched his jaws with a wide yawn. The low temperatures outdoors did little to convince him to leave the warm, windless sanctuary of the lab, yet he was driven to hunt in the woodlands nearby.

White-Fang found a meal relatively quickly; a foul, rotting scent led him to some other beast’s leftovers, consisting of a carcass that had many strange stab wounds. Strangely, the corpse wasn’t rotting–in fact, it looked like the blood wasn’t even done clotting, and the flesh was hardly cold. Although he found it odd, White-Fang made no complaint over the easy meal and cleaned up the crime scene. Unfortunately, the meal wasn’t quite filling–he’d even prefer to get ahold of something and take it back to the labs to eat in the comfort of his own home. Even if it’d bring all sorts of scavengers sniffing at his doorstep, White-Fang didn’t have much of a problem with that. After contemplating the pros and cons of staying out longer in the chilly woodlands, White-Fang settled on following the persistent rotten smell that permeated the breeze. 

When he looked towards the direction of the scent, the Acrocanthosaurus noticed something strange: a faint blood trail across the snow. The droplets were obvious against the stark-white snow, and caused White-Fang’s thoughts to momentarily stop in curiosity. Without any further contemplation, he followed the blood trail and strange imprints within the drifts, accompanied with the foul stench. 

White-Fang figured he’d catch up pretty soon, given the fresh appearance of the blood and potency of the scent. What he didn’t expect was for a second set of footprints to trample over the blood trail after veering towards the path from the thicket. A small clump of brown feathers were caught in brambles where the footprints came from, and with a sniff he vaguely recognized the scent as that of a Parasaur. As he looked ahead, the Acrocanthosaurus then noticed the Parasaurolophus happily trodding through the wintery woodlands, muddying the tracks left by whatever foul creature travelled in front of them. 

“Hey!” He called out, and watched as every feather puffed up along the herbivore’s body before the young Parasaurolophus whipped around in surprise, head raised and forelimbs ready to strike. It gave a warning snort, obviously ready to put up a fight in the event that the carnivore was up to no good. White-Fang looked slightly away from it and lowered his head to show a more friendly disposition. “I don’t mean any harm, calm down. Who’re you followin’?” 

The Parasaurolophus seemed to slightly relax. “Who are you following?” He retorted. White-Fang grumbled slightly at the hostile reaction.

“Not you. Whatever left the blood trail smells nasty, and I figure it’s not you. I’m White-Fang.”

“Donner,” The Parasaurolophus–Donner–replied. “No, I don’t smell that bad. I’m following Krampus, obviously–who else smells this bad on the isles? It’s almost as bad as his attitude,” Donner joked. “He probably got in a fight, I’ll bet this isn’t his blood in the snow. I’m gonna see if he’s in a better mood this year.”

White-Fang sniffed at the ground and then recognized that the blood matched his breakfast. He nodded in agreement with Donner. 

“You’re right, I found the unlucky creature that met this Krampus’ fellow while he was in a bad mood,” He remarked. “I don’t guess I’ve met ‘em before. I stay in the labs most of the time anyways.”

“You wanna come meet him? I figure you’d met him in the labs, since he came from that way too. He shouldn’t be in too much of a sour mood anymore,” Donner offered, settling down onto all fours for comfort of travel. White-Fang simply shrugged, then walked over and fell into pace with the Parasaurolophus as they started on their new journey.

The smell only got worse for the Acrocanthosaur’s sensitive nose the further they went down the path. Donner gave him a funny look when he noticed White-Fang scrunching his snout, but ignored his tiny grunts of complaint. 

“I thought you’d be more used to this kinda smell,” Donner commented.

“No, not at all,” White-Fang snorted. “It wasn’t bad back down the path, but I can’t believe it’s just getting worse. How can something living smell this bad?”

“His personality makes up for it. I think he intentionally tries to be as disgusting as possible to ward off.. Well, practically everyone. But that’s besides the point! He’ll remember me, and we’ll have some good old fashioned winter fun,” Donner scanned the path ahead and the footprints that trailed ahead. 

It was then that the two stopped in their tracks, having heard a grating roar, jingling bells and a guttural hiss coming from the clearing they’d soon reach. Donner and White-Fang shared a look before trudging onwards. Within the clearing, they found a hilarious sight: a thorny, scruffy Dacentrurus with a tail spike stuck within a thick tree trunk. It struck both that Krampus had probably tried to break down the tree, and instead of battering it down with his spines, he lodged several into the tough fibers and became stuck. Glaring orange eyes locked onto the Parasaurolophus and Acrocanthosaurus before he snarled at them. 

“Don’t just stand there! Do something,” Krampus barked before he turned back to the tree uncomfortably and gnawed at the tree around his lodged spine.

Donner and White-Fang quickly heeded his command, inspecting the scenario before they both determined that brute force would be the best method. White-Fang pushed his weight onto the trunk before Donner backed up to it and aimed a strong kick at the stress point. The tree gave way with a loud racket before it crashed to the ground and released Krampus’s tail spine. The Dacentrurus bolted away from his captor and shook out his pelt, eyeing the pair. 

“Don’t I know you?” Krampus walked back over to heavily eye Donner. “And who’s he?”

White-Fang looked at the Dacentrurus and rolled his eyes. “White-Fang. No need to thank me for helping free you,” He sarcastically replied.

“We met last winter,” Donner smiled. “I was just wondering if you were in a better mood this year, and if you’d want to come with me–and White-Fang, I guess–to enjoy the weather?”

Bells jingled on Krampus’s harness as he laughed at the idea. Donner gave him a stern look, and Krampus’s laughter died off. 

“You owe us as much,” Donner implored.

“No telling how long you’d be stuck if we didn’t come lookin’,” White-Fang added. “You owe the kid as much.”

Krampus groaned and looked around for anyone else to rescue him from the situation before he relented.

“Oh, whatever. Let’s go have some fun.”